Janet Quin-Harkin (38 page)

Immediately, a face looked around the door and a small, round woman scurried to her side. “Ah,
querida
, you wake,” she said, smoothing back the wet hair on Libby’s forehead. “Miguel!”

Libby recognized Don Miguel’s gray hair as he stood uneasily in the doorway. “My felicitations,
Señora
Libby,” he said.

“Is it daytime?” Libby asked.

“Si
. Is
Navidad
. Christmas,” Miguel said, smiling broadly. “You have the Christmas baby.”

“My baby?” Libby asked, cautiously bringing her hand down to her stomach. “I have my baby?”

“
Si
. He sleeps. Beautiful boy,” Conchita said, beaming at Libby.

“I have a son,” Libby said, closing her eyes in contentment.

“Thanks to God,” Conchita said. She wiped a tear.

“My wife fears last night that we come too late,” Miguel said softly. “There was so much water. We could not cross. When we come we find you lying like dead and the baby just arrived. My wife sit with you all night and pray.”

“Thank you,” Libby said, reaching out to touch her hand.

“De nada
,” Conchita said. She moved across the room and bent to the cradle on the floor. Then she placed Libby’s son in her arms. At the sudden movement he opened dark-blue eyes and seemed to look straight up at his mother, staring at her unblinking.

“He is a beautiful boy,” Libby said.

“What name you give him?” Miguel asked.

Libby wanted to say Gabriel but she had a sudden inspiration. “He’s a Christmas baby so he should have a Christmas name,” she said.

“Jesus. Jesus good name,” Conchita said reverently.

Libby smiled. “I can’t call him Jesus,” she said. “Imagine opening the door and shouting, “Jesus, lunch is ready.”

“Is good name in Spanish,” Conchita insisted. “Many men called Jesus.”

“Not in English,” Libby said. “He’d get teased in school. But I could call him Noel. That’s a nice name, isn’t it? And I’d like to call him Michael after Don Miguel.”

“Not after his father?” Miguel asked, showing concern.

“His father is gone,” Libby said. “I must forget the past and think of the future now.”

T
HE WINTER RAINS
ended, spring came with sweet-scented winds and new green grass, Libby’s strength returned gradually, and Noel Michael continued to thrive. He lay on his blanket, watching his mother and sisters, his dark eyes seeming to be interested in everything around him, breaking into a body-wiggling smile when anyone paid him attention. To Libby he was still a miracle. She would watch him as she nursed him, marveling at the chubby hand clutching her finger, still amazed that she had produced anything so perfect. To the girls he was a large doll. He allowed himself to be carried and held, tucked in blankets and dressed in bonnets for long periods before finally putting up a howl of protest when Bliss squeezed him too tightly.

In the fields Ah Fong was watching over new shoots as if they were all his own new babies. When he wasn’t pulling up any weed that dared to appear between his plants, he was prowling the Flores’ land, coming home with a sack full of cow patties which he then dug into his soil. He made the final arrangements for four Chinese field workers to join him and Libby had a construction crew build a line of one-room cabins behind the main house. The first winter cabbage was harvested and sold. The first spring crops were planted in their place and a procession of ox carts bumped along the rutted track up from Sacramento bearing fruit trees with roots in burlap, gnarled, dead-seeming grape vine stock, and bags of seed corn, plus packets of tomato, squash, melon, and pepper seeds. Libby looked doubtfully at the peppers. “I’m not sure about these,” she said. “Will anyone want them?”

“Jalapeños,
si
!” Conchita said excitedly. “All miners like jalapeños. Very hot! Make good chili beans.”

So the peppers were planted and Ah Fong started work on planting the fruit trees, looking out each day for his expected helpers. The two lemon trees went next to the house where Libby could admire them and she started a grape arbor for shade. Don Miguel also suggested she plant a cactus hedge around her property to keep out wandering deer and cattle. He gave her plants to start one around her fields but she rejected the idea of one around her house.

“I chose this site for the view,” she said. “I don’t want to look at a lot of prickly leaves.”

“One day you might be glad of it,” Don Miguel said.

She did, however, accept from him a fierce half-grown puppy to train as a watch dog. He proved to be afraid of nothing and tireless, chasing the two kittens onto the roof when there was nothing else to do. He also became completely devoted to Libby, not letting her out of his sight for a moment.

Up in the mines the water slowly dropped in the riverbeds and allowed more miners to go back to work. It had been a hard winter for many of them. They had not made the profits of the year before and those newly arrived last fall had been near to starving. Rumors of highway robbery and marauding bands of outlaws filtered down from the mines, magnified with each telling. Libby, occupied with her family and her farm, was little worried about the rumors. They rarely saw strangers, not being on a main route up from Sacramento. She felt that her house was far enough removed to be safe and went unconcerned about her chores.

She was in the middle of hanging out a line full of washing when she heard the sound of hoofbeats. She looked up to see Don Miguel and his son riding up in great agitation.

“Thank God you are safe,” Don Miguel said as she came to the door. “We feared the bandits had come to you too.”

“Bandits?” Libby looked up in alarm.

“We were herding cattle for spring branding when a group of armed men rode up,” Manuel said, glancing across at his father.

“They pointed guns at us. At first I think they kill us and I say my last prayers,” Don Miguel said. “But they keep us there, with many guns pointed at us while their brothers drive off twenty of my cattle.”

“That’s terrible,” Libby said.

“When they are done, they laugh and tell me that they will be back for more, whenever they want them,” Don Miguel added.

“But they can’t get away with it,” Libby said. “Could you identify them? You must go to the sheriff in Sutter Creek.”

Don Miguel shook his head with a bitter smile. “What would he do? He is Yankee like these men. He is probably friend of these men. There is no justice for Californios in Yankee territory.”

“We must get more men, as I have been saying, Papa,” Manuel said. “We will hire our own guns to guard the cattle day and night.”

“I do not like shooting and killing,” Don Miguel said. “I do not wish to be responsible for bloodshed.”

“Then what is the answer?” Manuel demanded angrily.

Don Miguel shrugged expressively. “I do not know, my son,” he said. “God’s will is the answer.” He turned his deep-set eyes to Libby. “But more I am concerned for you,
Señora
Libby. Living alone with these animals around. Will you not bring the children to our house until these bad the men have gone?”

“Thank you, Don Miguel,” Libby said, “but I can’t leave my fields now. This is the most important time of year. I’ll have four Chinese employees to supervise by next week and crops to be taken to market as soon as they are harvested. Besides, what could they steal from me? My money is in the bank and I have nothing of real value in the house.”

Don Miguel looked at her with embarrassment. “These men are not just hungry for food,” he said softly.

“I keep my rifle loaded at all times,” Libby said, “and Buster barks when he hears anything suspicious.”

“I think Buster needs to grow before he can defend you from
banditos
,” Manuel said, smiling.

“I am saying you need a cactus fence,” Don Miguel said. “Only a fool would try to come through prickly pear and you can defend one gate.”

“I’ll think about it,” Libby said. “But I wish you would take your complaint to the sheriff. I’ll come with you, if you like. I’ll help you get justice.”

Don Miguel shook his head. “No,
señora
. I cannot let you do this. If you speak for Mexicanos, whom these men think are so lowly, you may also find yourself with bullet in your back.”

Libby watched them ride away, angry at her powerlessness. It seemed so unfair that Don Miguel and his son, who behaved in every way like gentlemen, should be victimized by any uncouth lout who could call himself a Yankee. When she got back to the house she did double-check the rifle and the ammunition supplies and she wondered if she should get guns for the new Chinese laborers.

The days passed with no unfriendly visitors and Libby relaxed her vigilance. Then, one evening she was bringing in washing from the line when Buster started barking. She scanned the horizon, listening for horses, but saw nobody. Buster continued barking, the hair on his neck erect as he looked down to the creek.

“What is it, boy?” Libby asked. She slowly put the washing into the basket at her feet. As she straightened she noticed a movement and two men came out of the willows, walking slowly up the slope toward her. They were unshaven and ragged, with shapeless hats pulled well down over their faces. Libby put her hand on Buster’s collar.

“What do you want?” she called.

“Good day to you, ma’am,” one of them said in a low, gravelly voice with a marked southern accent. “We was wondering if y’all had any odd jobs you needed done.”

“Thank you, but I already have a helper who does my odd jobs,” Libby said.

“We’re mighty hungry, ma’am,” the other man said, walking closer to Libby. “We could sure use a bite of food, if you can spare it.”

“I’ll see what I can find for you,” Libby said. “Why don’t you wait right there and I’ll come out with it.”

She hurried back to the house, taking Buster with her. She tried to tell herself that these were poor starving men and she owed them charity, but every instinct warned her not to trust them. She burst into the kitchen and grabbed the surprised Ah Fong. “Listen to me,” she whispered. “Take both the horses. Lead them quietly away from the house and then ride as fast as you can to get Don Miguel. Tell him bandits.”

“You be all right here alone?” he whispered back.

“I’m going to get the rifle,” she whispered. “Go!” she added as he opened his mouth to protest.

As she came out of the kitchen she gasped to see the men right at the doorway. Buster was growling, showing his teeth.

“Cute puppy,” one of the men said. “Might amount to something if he grows up.” He aimed a kick in the dog’s direction. “Shut up, dog,” he said. Buster cringed and dodged but kept growling.

“I thought I told you to wait down there,” Libby said angrily. “I don’t want my children scared.”

She still could not see their faces. “You live here all alone then?” one of them drawled. He was a tall, gangly man, like a daddy longlegs spider and his torn pants came up above his ankles.

“I have my field workers,” she lied. “They live behind the house. They’ll be coming up from my fields shortly. It’s getting dark.”

“We didn’t see nobody in the fields, did we, Bo?” the tall man drawled.

“Sit down if you want food,” Libby said. She started into the house.

“Kitchen’s out here, ma’am, ain’t it?” one of them called after her.

“But I keep my dishes in the house,” she said shortly. She ran up the steps, snatched the rifle from the wall, and threw her shawl over her, hiding the hand with the rifle in it. “Stay here and don’t move,” she whispered to the children, firmly shutting their bedroom door.

“Mighty cozy place you got here,” came a voice behind her and the tall man stood leaning against the doorframe. “Seems a pity you ain’t got no man to share it with.” He leaned in farther. “Specially that nice big feather bed through there.” He grinned, showing a mouth of blackened teeth.

In the back bedroom Noel began to cry. The man looked at her with amusement. “Seems like you can find yourself a man when you need one,” he said, “and you found yourself one not too long ago.”

“I must ask you to leave my house,” Libby said. “I was intending to be charitable and feed you, but I’ll not be insulted. Get out and take your friend with you.”

The man’s grin widened. “Now who’s going to make me get out, little lady?” he asked.

Libby threw back her shawl and levelled the rifle. “I killed a man with this once,” she said. “I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.”

“No sense in being hostile like,” the man said. “I was only tryin’ to make pleasant conversation. Didn’t mean no harm, ma’am. Me and Willie could sure use some food and then we’ll be on our way.”

He started to back down the steps. Libby kept him covered all the way to the kitchen. Then she grabbed a lump of cold meat and a piece of bread, putting them together on a plate.

“Here,” she said, putting the plate down without taking her eyes off the men. “Take this and go. Get off my property and don’t come back.”

She stood there, rifle still pointed at them as Bo slunk toward the plate and picked up the food. “Much obliged, ma’am,” he muttered. He handed the food to his partner, then without warning, he rushed her. She shot and the bullet went wide as he grabbed the gun stock. Before he could snatch it from her, however, Buster sank his teeth into Bo’s bare shin.

“Ow, get him off me,” he yelled, hitting out at the dog and giving Libby a chance to regain the rifle.

“Get out while you’re still alive,” Libby said, calmly reloading the spent chamber. “I’m going to count to five and then I start shooting.”

Before she could reach three the men began to move off. From over the hill came the sound of hoofbeats and yells. The men looked up in alarm as Don Miguel, his son, and Ah Fong all galloped into view.

“My workers returning,” Libby called with satisfaction as the men scrambled to reach the creek.

“Are you all right?” Don Miguel asked, springing from his horse with gun drawn as Manuel wheeled after the men.

Libby nodded. “They were just leaving,” she said, not wanting to tell him what a narrow escape she’d had.

Manuel stayed on guard all night, but the men did not return. “Those kind are like vultures,” he said. “They only prey on those who cannot defend themselves. I do not think they will be back.”